


Wrench Resilience

by voleuse



Category: Justified
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:20:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24563749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voleuse/pseuds/voleuse
Summary: Ellen May promised she'd keep looking until she found herself.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Wrench Resilience

**Author's Note:**

> Set after the end of S5.

Where the sun comes up about ten in the mornin'  
And the sun goes down about three in the day  
And you fill your cup with whatever bitter brew you're drinkin'  
And you spend your life just thinkin' of how to get away

"Sure," Ellen May told the sheriff (not the sheriff), "this is easier for you, all these different names." She stared into the mirror, touched her hair, wavy and red and shorter than it'd been in years. "I only know how to do one thing."

"Don't start out down on yourself." Drew (not Drew) grunted as he pulled on a denim jacket. Ellen May shook her head, so he traded it for an old flannel shirt. "And it's this or having to worry about getting shot and tortured every day."

"That's not exactly something a girl can shake off," she replied. "New name or not. And I ain't gonna remember it half the time, I bet."

He laughed. "Trust me, you get used to it eventually." Shelby (not Shelby) tugged his trucker cap a little tighter on his head. He smiled at her, this time more wistful than usual. "You wanted to start over."

"Right," Ellen May said. "Well, as long as you're still around, I guess I'll do my best--"

"Bobby," he reminded her.

"Bobby," she repeated. She held up the baby blue sundress WitSec had sent along with the rest of her new clothes. "I swear I'll try. But not in this," and she shoved the dress way on the bottom of the pile.

***

WitSec sent them to Texas first, to a middle-sized town that was nothing like Harlan, but not too city, either. Bobby found work with a mechanic out by the junkyard, but she struggled through every interview she managed to get.

When they had supper one night--they lived just down the street from each other, and she told her landlady Bobby was her step-uncle--she curled up on her thrift store sofa and allowed herself a pout. "I swear every manager sees right through me," she said. "All I got to talk about is babysitting and 'hospitality.'"

" _There's_ a good dodge," Bobby told her. When she didn't budge, he sighed and set his beer on the coffee table. "Look, you don't have to get back to working right away. Didn't they say they could set you up for school or something?"

"Sh--Bobby, I didn't even finish high school," she said. "All them college students would laugh me out of the room."

"Okay," he said. He picked up his beer and took a long gulp, thinking. "What about a trade? You could be one of those gals who help at a school. Or maybe, I dunno, doing hair or something?"

She sat up. "Oh." She pondered that while she took another bite of pizza. "The girls at Audrey's always said I was the best at doing nails. And I was real good with doing hair when we had something special going on."

"There you go." Bobby tipped his bottle towards her. "Just gotta polish up those skills and you'll be earning a paycheck in no time."

"Maybe," she said, feeling hopeful for the first time since they left Harlan. "Maybe I can."

***

Two weeks later, she was ten minutes early to her first cosmetology class. She felt like a fake, her hair tied up all pretty and in a blouse that she had ironed twice because she was nervous. The classroom was brightly lit and the floor almost spit-polished. It was clear the school used to be a Kmart, but it was now divided into clear sections and set up with mirrors and spinning chairs and tables for manicures.

It seemed like a small class, maybe eight or ten people, most of them younger than her, although the lady next to her looked to be in her 40s or so. The two of them gravitated together, standing somewhat apart from the teenagers with their halter tops and high-heel sandals.

"Hey," the woman said. "Glad I'm not the only one looking for something new." She smiled. "I'm Cathy, by the way."

"Hi." She grinned back and held her hand out to shake. "Call me Maybelle."

Then their teacher came in, and her new life began.

**Author's Note:**

> Title adapted from "[What I Believe](http://www.jeff-worley.com/jeff/samples/sample-a-little-luck/)" by Jeff Worley. Epigraph taken from "[You'll Never Leave Harlan Alive](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cco-pCb0klU)," performed by Darrell Scott.


End file.
